Ninapintasantamaria's Blog











{January 20, 2009}   Housework

I’m really meant to be a rich woman.  On the news every night showing people my clean shaven (Waxed?  Yeah, they probably have a personal waxer.) tootie.  I’m meant to have a maid, a cook, and a dog-walker that follow me to the Mediterranean, Japan, and England, and wherever the hell else I feel like jumping on my leer jet and going.  I most emphatically am not meant to be hanging my husband’s uniforms and mopping floors, and picking up dog s___ because my dogs don’t understand this is their house and you don’t s___ where you eat.  I swear, it’s only in their room.  They don’t come in the rest of the house.  And I clean every week.  I swear!  Y’all don’t have to be afraid to come over, or anything.  We’re not those people.*sighs*  I JUST DON’T WANNAAAA!  There, did that give you an overview of my feelings about housework?  Let me know if you need a more elaborate display.  I can give it.  Oh yeah.  Uh-huh.  I can.  I would rent out that island on the travel channel the other night.  The one where they bring you drinks on the dock as you disembark, and fish for your meal personally?  You had to have seen it.  When I hit the lottery, I’m there.  Paris Hilton, ready or not, here I come!  Not that I would actually eat the fishy things, of course.  I haven’t touched so much as a fish stick since I was approximately 6.  That was waaaay before I started to try to procreate, so I’m ahead of the game, see?  Of course, if I were rich, I could just go and buy babies like that one “Hollywood couple who shall remain nameless.”  They wouldn’t actually admit to it, or anything, but that’s essentially what they’re doing.  I hate being po’ folks.  Well, I don’t really hate it, as I was raised with some values and morals, but it can be inconvenient when you have Dom Peringnon taste and a kool-aid budget like I’ve been blessed with.  My husband does keep me in the lifestyle to which I’ve become accustomed and all, but it’s just that I’ve had to become accustomed to southern-fried suburban.  Although, I suppose it is 1 step above deep-fried trailer park, so I guess I oughtta hush!



{January 19, 2009}   Family Vacations

Oh we went on many of those.  Usually to somewhere beachy.  I’m ready again.  I just got back from Myrtle Beach in July, but I want to go again. This was one of the pleasant memories.  However, one year, Granddaddy had the awesome idea that we should all go to Panama City Beach, and stay in a rented condo.  Yeah.  My dad has 6 brothers and sisters.  They have on average 2 kids each, with spouses.  Not everyone went, and there were 22 people staying in 1 condo.  Pleasant.  Never again.

My dad never thought you had to make reservations.  Ever.  We would drive everywhere, too, because Dad was cheap.  Did I mention he was cheap?  Cause he was cheap.  So anyway, one year, (just the 5 of us, this time) we had driven most of the night, because Dad also didn’t like traffic, and we were all tired.  We had made plans to go to Fort Myers, Fla. to visit family.  Because Dad was so tired, (yeah, he didn’t want Mom to drive because he thought she would get us lost) we started looking for a motel to spend the rest of the day and night in.  We drive and drive because there was some kind of ballgame or huge event in the town we were in, so everything was booked.  Dad’s getting more tired and irritable as the day goes on, and finally just gives in and rents a room at a “Bates Motel.”  You know, from Psycho?  Anyway, we sleep there, it was on the beach, and not soooo bad.  However.  It had a wierd shower.  The hot was the cold, the cold was the hot, and in general, the plumbing was screwed up.  (Are you sensing a theme to this blog?)  I took the 1st shower in the morning, and figured the plumbing out pretty quickly.  After everyone else was ready, and we were packing up to continue our trip, Dad says something about complaining to the manager.  I asked him what for, and he told me about the plumbing.  I said, “Yeah, you had to turn it all the way to cold to get hot water.  Wierd.”  My whole family turns around and is really pissed off that I didn’t explain the “destructions” to anyone else. Well, I figured it out, so I just assumed that they all would!  So.  That story of how I got a hot shower when no one else did has become the stuff of legend.  Heh.  I can’t help being awesome and thinking outside the box!



{January 19, 2009}   YCU

Okay, so like, last night the YCU was saying “You probably talk some crazy shit about me on there, don’t ya?  You probably tell everyone how I talk bad to you, and am mean to you and everything.”  I had half a mind to tell him that if he was worried, maybe that told of a guilty conscience?  But I held that in (Yay me!!) and I told him it wasn’t anything I hadn’t told him already (which it wasn’t).  He talked around the subject for a few more minutes, and I can’t stand it when he does this.  I like him to say what he means.  I don’t like having to figure out if he’s really curious or not, or if he’s really pissed off or not.  Just tell me already!!!  I finally threw up my hands and said “Fine.  You want to read it?  You can read the whole thing, or just pick out categories.  Have at it.”  (Fine.  The 4-letter word that automatically means it’s not fine.)  So he read it and acted like he was mad for a minute, and got over himself.  He bitches at me about being nosy and butting into his business, as if I’m not entitled to know all his nearest and dearest concerns, but let me really try to have something private and see what happens?  Yeah.  I’m gonna remember this.



It hasn’t brought me near the amount of visitors it did the 1st night, but it still works a little bit.

Update:  You have to actually say something positive about AI to get it to send you hits.  I get it now.  Free Advertising.  For them.



{January 18, 2009}   I can tell now

Yeah.  Mighty Mississippi.  *sighs*  Back to the drawing board.  I’m going to start screwing every other day.  That way, at least whatever egg might exist gets it coming and going, if you know what I mean.



{January 16, 2009}   Apologies, everyone.

My profound apologies for last night’s post.  I was very angry, and hope that I didn’t offend anyone.  I really meant that conversation to go on in my head, and directed at the people trying to comfort me in the flesh, not all of you.  So again, sorry!!!  While still not pregant, I’ve got to come to terms with the fact ahead of time, and try to prepare, instead of focusing on that and losing all perspective.  This is really hard.  I’m really not good at following my own ass-vice.



Now I’m in bitter mode.  Again.  My Ute will not behave properly, even after Geohde’s kick.  I’m still spotting, at least that’s what I’m calling it, since it still isn’t a normal period.  All brown, old blood.  Not red and clumpy, like usual.  Sorry if that’s too much info, but I don’t know how else to describe it.  I wish she would make up her mind.  However, unless these are dire circumstances, I can’t be pregant.  Even implantation doesn’t “spot” this long.  Or this much.  So at least now we know.  So now I don’t want to go back to my doctor.  I’ve booked a pap for next month, and I don’t want to go.  I’m usually the 1st one on the table, setting a good example, and doing my yearly baseline checkups.  But I don’t want to go.   She’ll ask me how I’ve been doing, and I’ll say fine, which is a lie.  Then it’ll be very tense as she tries to discern whether it’s safe to delve further.  Which it isn’t.  They already think I’m nuts since I came running in there with what I thought was a positive hpt, which was negative by the time I got to their office, apparently.  I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want them looking at me with pity and saying they’re sorry and to keep trying!   I wish I could just start over, go somewhere new, where they don’t know me from the man in the moon, but that would be really stupid.  I love my doctor, but now I don’t feel she’ll really take me seriously.  Again, I have no reason to feel that way other than the fact that I don’t trust myself now, so why should she?  That’s probably harder than not being pregnant.  The not trusting myself.  People keep saying to give myself time, and not be so hard on myself.   About what?  I used to be sane.  Totally type A, but sane.  Mistaken, from time to time, but confident in myself and how and where I was.  I don’t see that expecting yourself to be sane and clear-headed and confident about life in general is being hard on myself.  I just want to feel normal.  About the time I think I’m finally getting there, and maybe just this once, I was “relaxed” enough, I get my period, and realize I have no idea what I’m doing.  I have no plan, I can’t seem to get pregnant, I’ve done every miracle trick on the internet, (at least the free, affordable ones) and none of it works.  So I’m not doing it right, or there’s something wrong, and I can’t afford to find out what it is, so what’s the point, right?  Yeah, that’s where I’m at, right now.  No sense of humor, and crying in the living room because YCU is in bed, and I’m afraid to go back in there because he’ll either wake up, or he’ll try to comfort me and I’m not in the mood.  I don’t want to do this anymore.  I just want to go back to normal.  It’ll be just the two of us, and we’ll be able to afford nice vacations, and not have to worry about teenagers and jail being in the same sentence.  I’ve had so many people tell me not to be impatient, that it’s all worth it in the end when you get to hold that little one.  Yeah, well, it’s real easy to say from the other side.  Or they say ‘but look how long it took_____!’  Well, I’m sorry, but _____ must just be better than me, if she’s able to keep this up and not get ‘impatient.’  Also may I just point out that she never had one and had it jerked out from under her and was then made to suffer not being able to get pregnant again.  May I point out that there’s no discernable reason why I can’t get pregnant again, yet I can’t seem to.    Right now, I’m not seeing how it’s all ‘worth it.’  So kiss my ass, folks, I’m royally pissed off, and there’s nuttin’ any of you f_____rs can do about it!!  I think I may be suffering from “assvice overload.”  It’s getting so backed up that all the shit I’ve been holding back is now coming out in the form of “potty mouth.”



{January 14, 2009}   “The Infertile’s Prayer”

I’ve written some lyrics.  All together now, with feeling, to the tune of “Wouldn’t It Be Loverly.”  Y’all tell me what you think.  Feel free to make suggestions.

All I want is a pregnancy,

far away from anomaly.

One chubby cheeked baby,

Oh wouldn’t it be loverly!

Lots of breast milk for me to freeze,

Saying “Goodness Sakes!” to a baby’s sneeze.

Yes, please, yes, please, yes, please!

Oh wouldn’t it be loverly!

Ooh, Soo wonderf’lly at the kiddie park

we would play.

I would love you for all time!

That’s all that I can say!

All I want is a sweet baby,

Warm and cuddly as they can be.

I’ll take good care of thee,

Oh wouldn’t it be loverly!



{January 14, 2009}   I still can’t tell.

Idiocy abounds.  Utish idiocy.  I may have to borrow Geode’s attitude and start calling it BT.  No, maybe BT, Jr.  Yeah.  That’s it. “Ahh am so pissed off.  Screw you guys, I’m going home!”  I am so Cartman right now.  I have no patience, and I’m taking my toys and going home.



{January 14, 2009}   Tales from the…gullet?

Took my husband in for an EGD.  Basically they shot a camera down his esophagus and looked at his whole digestive tract.  They had to give him enough meds to knock a horse over.  He keeps telling me he’s fine, arguing about his ability to drive, and then asks me the same questions over again.  Bet he’ll listen to me next time and opt for general anesthesia.  Results, you ask?  He’s got GERD.  Well, bust my buttons!  Why didn’t you say so?  (Movie reference, anyone?)  We already knew that.  Oh, and the whole reason I’m blogging about this?  Remember a few posts ago when I told you I spent the whole day disparaging my husband’s gaseous eruptions from the nether regions?  Yeah.  I heard the MD and the nurses talking about the “Big Stinker” in the back.  I knew immediately.  Shall have to tell him when he regains use of his faculties.

In other news, well, there’s no news.  However, I can’t go on thinking this is just spotting if it continues.  I’ll just have to assume that my Ute is an idiot.



et cetera